Shell Cottage
by Diabolical Penguin
Summary: Two people find themselves at Shell Cottage. Both of them were trying to move on from something, both trying to forget the past. But they needed each other to help along. All's fair in love and war at Shell Cottage. Charlie/OC
1. The Beginning: The End

**The Beginning: The End**

_April 28__th__ 1998_

The stadium was only half full, which isn't saying much seeing as it was only a small stadium. But the vibe coming from the witches and wizards was enough to make Miette Delacour smiled from her seat on her broom. Since the rise of You-Know-Who, not many people had risked going to watch high-speed racing. Hell, many witches and wizards had stopped racing altogether. But this was something Miette loved. For all her life she had been in her cousin's shadow. Of course, Fleur was part Veela, so it is understandable. And Miette had been happy being her cousin's quiet best friend. But flying was something Miette was good at, better than Fleur.

And she loved it. She was the French champion, unbeaten in the past three seasons. She even had a few offers from various Quidditch teams for the next Quidditch season. So on that lovely spring day, Miette was ready to race. From the starting point, Miette tightened her gloves and tucked a few stray blonde hairs behind her ears. She was between her fellow French teammate Nicole Rousseu and the Russian Anya Ivanova, who were both laughing about a joke someone else had told. That was what Miette loved about the sport; everyone was friendly. Sure, you got the odd over-competitive bitch, but generally they were all friends.

The commentator, some overly large and seedy man spoke. "Ladies, get ready!" his voice boomed and Miette pulled on her goggles and gripped her broom tightly, blocking out all outside noises.

The only sound she registered was the bang, signifying the start of the race. Immediately, Miette shot forward, her mind focused entirely on the race. At the end of the first lap, Miette was in the second to the English team's Lucy Jones. The second lap ended with her tied with Lucy and Anya. By the fourth lap Miette was in first place with a large distance between her and Lucy. And that is when it all fell apart. She passed someone on the previous lap when a green flash passed her and hit the woman who plummeted to the ground.

Screams filled the stadium and the racers all panicked; they were all easy targets, what with the top of the stadium closed. Pulling her wand out of her boot in record time, Miette spun her broom around to see what exactly was happening. Gasping, her eyes fell on a group of Death Eaters who were happily throwing curses at audience members and racers alike. Deflecting a curse, Miette sent a curse of her own before dodging whatever else was being thrown in her way.

Fellow racers were dropping from their brooms with various flashes of coloured light, and Miette frantically looked around for Anya or Nicole. Her stomach dropped as an orange light hit Nicole. As fast as she could fly – which is pretty fast – Miette caught her friend who was bleeding profusely from a wound on her side. "Nicole, can you hear me?" she asked in rapid French.

The brunette grunted in reply and clung to Miette. Adrenalin racing through her veins, Miette began to fly towards the stadium seats but changed her mind when she saw flames begin to consume anything flammable. Smoke was rapidly filling up the stadium and Miette coughed violently, still dodging curses and holding Nicole tightly. On the positive side, the Death Eaters could no longer see her through the smoke.

Something creaked and with a loud crash part of the stadium caved in on them, sending up more dust and smoke. But Miette could not see where the opening was. The smoke in the air had put a coating on her goggles which further impaired her vision, but she knew taking them off would only mean the smoke would go into her eyes and possibly cause her to go blind – if she survived.

Nicole seemed too still in her arms and Miette felt tears prick her eyes. "Nicole!" she yelled hoarsely before coughing again. Her head spun from lack of oxygen and her lungs ached from smoke inhalation. Feeling weaker, Miette drifted down, the smoke disorientating her. There was another crash from somewhere above her and debris rained down on her. Another crash and parts of the roof hit her, causing her to drop Nicole. She screamed, clinging to her broom with a death grip. Blood was dripping from various cuts on her body, but Miette barely even registered her own pain as she began to sob.

Another coughing fit followed and in her weakened state Miette could no longer hold onto her broom and she plummeted to the ground below. She landed with a sickening crack and an intense pain filled her body. A small part of her mind reminded her that feeling the pain meant she hadn't broken her neck, but the shear panic of the situation over ran any coherent thought.

From where she lay amongst the debris, Miette could see the charred ruins of broken stadium and flames that moved closer to her by the second. What looked like bodies littered the ground and Miette fought the urge to throw up. She wasn't the fighting type; war wasn't her domain. Unable to feel anything but fear, Miette felt her consciousness slip away and in her lost moment of awareness she briefly wondered if she was dead.

_May 19__th__ 1998_

The war was over. Done. It was a bittersweet thing, though. Whilst Voldemort was finally gone for good, everyone lost someone dear to them. Everyone felt the sting of loss. And with the fighting finally done, such people were given time to dwell on their losses.

Charlie Weasley was one such person. The loss of his brother hit him hard, and he hadn't spoken to anyone for over two weeks. But it wasn't only the loss of Fred that he felt; the loss of Tonks, too. Throughout Hogwarts, she had been his best friend. And now? She was gone. The sight of their bodies was burned into his memories, and made him want puke. He helped his parents rebuild the burrow, doing anything to distract him from thoughts of his little brother and his best friend. But it never worked for long. It seemed that everywhere he turned was a reminder of Fred. Be it the remainders of a prank, or even just looking at George. But he tried to stay strong. He needed to stay strong.

George needed him.

Charlie had always seen the twins as two separate people, something not many people did. He always treated them like individuals. He knew that George was a mastermind when it came to planning things, and that Fred secretly liked to read Dumas. And they had both been grateful for that. And so Charlie knew that George would need him. Charlie had always been there for them. He was the one who taught them how to fly, the one who helped get them out of trouble, the one who they had always turned to for advice.

And so, seventeen days after the battle found Charlie sitting under a tree with George staring out into the distance. Both were silent, knowing that they didn't need words to comfort each other. They had done so every evening since the battle, and never had the silence been broken.

"It seems unfair, don't it?" George said finally, his voice hoarse. "That I'm here, and he's… not."

More silence followed, but George wasn't expecting any sort of answer.

"I think…" Charlie said softly, as though not sure his voice would still work. "I think that it is unfair that fucking Death Eaters are still here, and he's… not."

Surprised at his brother's first words since the war, George turned to face him. "I killed people, Charlie. I took lives. Fred—" George's voice broke and he forced back tears. "He didn't kill anybody. In all that fighting, he didn't kill. He should still be here. _I'm_ the one who killed people."

There was a long silence, the only sound coming from Charlie standing up. He put his hand on his brother's shoulder and looked at the sky grimly. "We _all_ killed people, George." He said quietly before turning and walking away, his hands stuffed in his pocket and tears running down his face. And not for the first time Charlie wished he was the one who died. He should have tried harder to protect his family, to protect his friends.

Filled with regrets, Charlie apparated to a random pub to drink away his problems.

**A/N**

Well I have decided to publish this story… I have written bits of it over the past few months, so here it is! Don't know if it is any good, because I never ever ever write romance stories. I don't even read them. So this is for my boyfriend who does. And if it is crap, I humbly apologise.

-x-


	2. Shell Cottage

**Shell Cottage**

_June 2__nd__, 1999_

Charlie Weasley sat at the kitchen table at Shell Cottage drinking a cup of coffee and reflecting on the past year. For the first month after the war, Charlie could count on one hand the amount of days he had been sober. Since then, he had the occasional drink and had moved in with Bill and his wife, Fleur. Life, in his opinion, sucked. But he figured living with his brother would help him through. And it was. He wanted to be closer to his family, so going back to Romania was out of the question. Living with the whole damn family would drive him insane. And he couldn't stand living alone, so getting his own place just would not happen.

Besides, living at Shell Cottage meant he could have nearly whatever animal he wanted and fly as often as he could. Flying helped. Flying helped much better than any amount of alcohol could.

Taking another sip of the now cold coffee, Charlie stared out the window. He hadn't cut his hair since before the war, and now it was long enough that he didn't need to tie it back anymore. But he did tie it back, mostly because he would look ridiculous if he let it hang loosely down his back.

The sound of one week old Victoire crying pulled Charlie from his musings and chugged down the rest of his coffee as his sister-in-law waltzed in with the baby. "Does it ever stop crying?" he asked her as she sat down, the baby bawling its eyes out.

Fleur glared at him and flipped her silver-blonde hair over her shoulder. "Oui." She said sharply as Bill walked in with an amused look on his face.

"Post!" He said cheerfully, dropping a pile of letters onto the table and picking up his daughter, who automatically stopped crying.

"I do not undeerztand how you do eet, Beel." Fleur muttered as she sifted through the post. Her face lit up at the sight of an envelope with neat blue writing on the front. Frantically, Fleur ripped it open and scanned it with a large grin on her face. "Miette eez coming!"

Charlie looked at Bill questioningly. "Miette is Fleur's cousin." Bill said simply with a shrug before turning to his wife. "When will she be here?"

"Zis evening." She answered, standing up with a start. "I muzt feex up ze guezt room for 'er."

Charlie resisted the urge to groan and bash his head against the table. If this girl was anything like her cousin, he was going to go on a homicidal rampage. Sure, he loved Fleur like a sister, but she was very demanding. _Very_ demanding. Bill seemed to read his mind and nodded in agreement. "She's going to help out." Bill said softly, rocking his daughter to sleep. "Fleur isn't coping too well, and there are too many tensions between her and mum for _that_ to work out."

Mutely nodding, Charlie stared at the bottom of his now empty coffee cup. _This will be interesting..._

The sun was starting to set at Shell Cottage when Charlie heard a pop from outside whilst lazily laying on his bed. Silently, he took out his wand and moved over to the window of his room. It was a small room, with just a bed, a wardrobe and a desk, and nearly no floor room, so it was only about three steps to get to the window. He lowered his wand when he saw Fleur hugging a small blonde woman. She had three suitcases piled behind her and was wearing a green coat, gray pants and boots, but aside from that, Charlie couldn't tell much about her. Curious, he snuck out his room and stood out of view at the top of the stairs.

"Miette! How nice to see you again. Welcome to our home!" He heard Bill say.

"Thank you, Bill." Came a smooth voice with a slight French accent. "And this is baby Victoire?"

"Oui. C'est Victoire." Fleur answered in French. "Vous semblez en bonne santé."

From there, the two women exchanged rapid French fast enough to make Charlie's head spin. He heard their footsteps. "Charlie!" Came Bill's voice from below. "Get down here!"

With a sigh, Charlie walked down the stairs, pretending like he hadn't been listening the whole time. Once he reached the bottom he finally had a chance to look at Miette up close. She was shorter than he had first observed, probably no higher than 5'2. Her hair was dark blonde and hung to just below her shoulders. She had grey-green eyes that looked tired and her face was free of make-up. There was a thin scar on the left side of her face and a burn mark on the part of her neck that Charlie could see, and he burned with curiosity about how she got them, and if they were her only scars. She was pretty, he would give her that, but she obviously did not share Veela blood with her cousin.

"Charlie Weasley. I'm Bill's brother." He said gruffly and offered her his hand.

"Miette Delacour. Fleur's cousin." She replied before shaking his hand with a firm grip. He duly noted the calluses on her hands and came to the conclusion that she did some sort of physical work, but they felt soft and old, as though she hadn't done anything physical for a while.

He squinted his eyes, as though trying to figure the woman out. She raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow at him and pulled her hand away from his grasp. Charlie felt his ears burn at the realisation that he had held onto her hand for a bit too long and turned on his heel and strode out of the cottage to get some air. He wasn't liking this _Miette Delacour_ one little bit. Who was she? Why the scars? Why the calluses? Why hadn't he met her at the wedding? She would have been a bridesmaid, surely?

Charlie shook his head and sat down on a rock, staring out at the beach, his thoughts drifting to the new Shell Cottage resident.

Miette had been rather nervous about moving in with her cousin. She had barely seen Fleur since she had woken up from the coma, so the opportunity to live with her best friend was something she could not turn down. Any worries she had about moving to Shell Cottage disappeared at the warm reception she had received from Fleur and Bill. Fleur looked excellent for someone who had just given birth, surprise suprise. Bill looked just like she had remembered. His face scarred, but his eyes held a warmth that made her smile.

Everything had been going smoothly until she met Bill's brother. She had met him before, at the wedding, but with all the Veela prancing around Miette wasn't surprised that he had barely even registered meeting her. But that was fine, Miette was used to that. Hell, most people didn't even know that she existed when she was around Fleur. But she had never been jealous of Fleur; Miette liked quietly watching everything around her. She liked that she was never the centre of attention. But it still stung that Charlie hadn't remembered her. After all, he had been best man and she had been maid of honour. They danced, for Merlin's sake!

It was all rather ridiculous, and not for the first time Miette cursed her uncle for marrying a part-Veela. Charlie Weasley was an interesting person. She knew he had tamed dragons, and that he was quite the quidditch player. Before the... incident, Miette would have loved to befriend him; he seemed just like her type. But now? The idea of flying made her sick to her stomach. The one thing she loved doing was the one thing she was scared of. Stupid, right?

He had changed since she had last met him; the war had changed him. Miette had always been an oddly perceptive person, and looking into his eyes was like looking into a world of loss and pain and grief. His hair was longer too. And shiny. It took all her self control to not run her fingers through it. He had a firm handshake, but it reached a point where the contact was getting too much for Miette. Pulling away, Miette looked at him curiously. What was going on in his head? Her curiosity only grew more when he made a rather... dramatic exit.

Unsure about what had just happened, Miette turned to her cousin. Bill was staring out the door with a concerned frown, and Fleur was smiling sympathetically. "Don't mind him, Miette." Bill commented, turning to face her. "You'll get used to his oddities."

They all laughed and Miette followed them up to her room. It was small, and just being in it made Miette claustrophobic. But that was fine, because it was only for sleeping in. It wasn't like she was going to spend every waking moment in the small room.

"We'll let you get settled, Miette, then we'll have dinner." Bill said, smiling before exiting the room with Fleur and Victoire.

Allowing her smile to slip off, Miette sighed and looked in the mirror. Sometimes she didn't even recognise the person she saw. The scar glared back at her and she fought against the torrent of memories that threatened to overwhelm her. Her main goal in life was to forget it ever happened, but the mark on her face and the marks on her body were a constant reminder of the single worst day of her life. Her hand shook as she traced the line and she bit back tears before jerking her hand away. Now wasn't the time to dwell on what could not be changed.

Turning around, Miette waved her wand at two of her suitcases, and their contents quickly stored itself in various places in the room. When it came to her last suitcase, Miette glared at it. She wouldn't be unpacking _that_ one anytime soon. In it, Miette had all her old flying equipment. Her Redshift: WindRider, a special racing broom built for speed; her Nimbus 2001, built for stability and handling (no pun intended; trophies and medals; her racing clothes and countless pairs of gloves. It was a suitcase filled with painful memories, and with swift movement of her wand, the suitcase was hidden nicely under the bed.

Satisfied that everything was done, Miette quickly changed out of her travelling clothes and into a blue summer dress. She took a few deep breaths before quickly exiting her room and colliding with a solid wall of muscle (cliché, I know). "Oh!" she exclaimed, her quick reflexes saving herself from falling over.

"You should watch where you're walking." Came the reply as Charlie Weasley glared at her.

"Really?" Miette bit back, crossing her arms. "And here I was thinking that _not_ looking was the best idea ever."

If anything, the redheaded man's glare intensified. "Obviously." He commented with obvious distaste in his voice.

"Look, I don't know why you don't like me," Miette said crossly with her arms crossed and her French accent deepening. "So far as I know, _I'm_ the one who shouldn't like _you_, seeing as we _already met._"

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly with an audible snap. Miette rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "_Merde._" She muttered as she walked away from him.

Reaching where she remembered from her previous visit, Miette entered the kitchen. "Fleur, Bill." She said smiling, her sunny disposition back. "Thank you again for allowing me to stay in your home."

They smiled back at her and Fleur pulled her into a hug. "Of courze, Miette! 'ou are mozt welcome 'ere!"

"Now, please sit!" Bill said, gesturing to the table. "I'm 'fraid it's not much, but we haven't really had much of a chance, what with Victoire being so temperamental."

Miette sat now at the table, Fleur joining her. In French, she began to speak. "It has been terrible, Miette. I don't know why she cries the whole time!"

"Calm now, Fleur." Miette replied in her mother tongue. "She sounds like the way you were. I would say she just wants all your attention. But either way, I'm here to help now."

Fleur smiled at her and patted her hand. "You are always welcome here. Thank you so much for helping, I think I'm going insane."

Miette smiled back as Charlie entered the kitchen. Poised, Miette nodded her head in acknowledgement but did not show any warmth. He grunted in reply and sat across from her, his eyes narrowed. Throughout the whole meal, she treated him with nothing other than cold detachment, and in response he treated her with hostility. Table conversation was limited to the weather, as Fleur and Bill sat awkwardly, sensing the vibes coming from Charlie and Miette.

As soon as everyone was done, Miette stood up and started to clear away the table, looking for anything to keep her hands busy. For some odd reason, Charlie made her angry. He frustrated her. Composing herself, Miette turned and smiled at Bill. "Here, I'll take Victoire off your hands for a bit. I'll bath her put her to bed for you." She said, taking the baby when he held her out for her.

"Thank you, Miette." He said, and she could here he really meant it.

"Oh it's nothing." She said simply, bouncing Victoire up and down. The baby giggled as she exited the room and climbed the stairs to the bathroom. In it was a small baby bath, and with a wave of her wand Miette sent warm water into it, along with some lavender scent.

"Hey bubs." She said to the baby as she took off her clothes and slowly lowered her into the bath. Miette loved children. She wanted to be a mother one day, but with her relationship track record, that was about as likely as it was for a snow in hell. "Shh shh shh." Miette said as Victoire fussed.

Finally, when she was done, Miette put a nappy on the baby and dressed her. She was tiny; definitely only a month old. She could hear Bill and Fleur talking in the kitchen, and Miette smiled. They sounded so happy and it made Miette laugh quietly as she entered the main bedroom and placed Victoire in the crib next to her parents' bed. "There, there." She said soothingly as Victoire started to fuss again. Rocking it gently, Miette told her a story about a little boy never wanted to grow up, and how each time a baby laughs a fairy is born. Peter Pan had been her favourite story as a child, and with a smile Miette looked down on the now sleeping child.

Soundlessly, she stood up and went to her own room across the corridor and collapsed into her own bed, exhausted. And still with her clothes on, Miette drifted into a dreamless sleep, her last thoughts being about Shell Cottage.

**A/N**

Alrighty! Updated :-) Hope it is alright. Firstly, the name of Miette's broom I got from when I was studying physics and has to do with stars moving away etc. Boring stuff, but yeah, Wikipedia it if you're curious. Haha.

I don't like love at first sight things. Sometimes they work if handled VERY well, but most times I want to claw my eyes out and rip at my hair. But yes, feedback please? As a writer I like to improve, which is part writing and part feedback. Thanks for reading though!

-x-


	3. Unadulterated Hate

**Unadulterated Hate**

_June 9__th__, 1999_

In one week, Charlie's world had been turned upside down once again. Thank gosh his life wasn't a soft drink, because by now it would just fizzle over. _Miette. _The name of the devil herself. She drove him crazy with her perfectly raised eyebrows every time he said something, with the way she made Bill and Fleur happy just by being there. With the way Shell Cottage seemed different just with her mere presence.

Even more than that, she drove him crazy because she was a complete mystery. At times she would look so deep in thought that he could walk right by her and she wouldn't look at him with a glare that froze his insides. He would often catch her staring up at the sky, like a bird that had lost its wings. And if he went flying whilst she was sitting out in the sun, she would get up and march right back inside as though his mere existence in _her_ sky was abhorrent.

Miette Delacour was the bane of his existence.

He had taken to listening very carefully at doors before entering or exiting, just to be sure he wouldn't run into her. He had dinner early or late, went flying whenever he could.

But that wasn't enough. He still had to see her, be with her. If it was the morning after she arrived when he walked in on her in the shower and had a wet and naked French woman scream at him with words he didn't understand, or if it was two days after that when Fleur insisted on everyone having dinner together.

Maybe it was childish, but she was ruining his life.

So much so, that Charlie didn't even want to get out of bed. He just lay there, in his tiny room, staring at the ceiling. And he would have lay there for longer if it didn't feel like his stomach was going to internally combust. So with a grunt, he rolled out of bed and glared at the mirror. Morning-face. Not attractive at all. But it wasn't like he cared what anyone else at Shell Cottage thought, so he exited his room, not even bothering to put on a shirt.

Down the stairs, through the hall, into the kitchen.

Someone was already up. A hot pot of coffee sat steaming on the table, and the windows were already open to air out the room. He shuffled to the pantry and pulled out a bowl and cereal. Filling the bowl to the top with milk, he grabbed some bread and sandwiched a banana in it. Breakfast was super important. And always put him in a better mood.

Miette had never been able to sit still for too long. It wasn't ADD or hyperactivity. She just liked to be moving. That was how she got into flying. But now that she didn't fly... she ran. Ran from problems, from the past, and just ran. Every morning. Usually right as the sun was coming up. Sunrise was her favourite. Anyone could see a sunset, but not many people were awake for the sunrise. Sunrise was like a secret.

One week after her arrival, and she slept in a bit longer than usual, so she had to be content to watch the sunrise from her window as opposed to seeing it on her run. But she still went for her run. Opening the Kitchen windows and making a pot of coffee – it was only polite – before making her way outside.

It was a lovely day. The sun reflected off the water and Miette pause to admire how perfect it was. And how much she would love to be flying right at that time. Her mood dropped a bit at the thought.

Pushing those thoughts away, Miette turned to run back to Shell Cottage, her pony tail swishing behind her. She ran back along the beach, the sand squeaking under her running shoes. For the last one hundred meters, she sprinted as fast as she could – which wasn't all that fast, to be honest – and collapsed against the door, panting and smiling.

She fumbled with the handle before opening the door and stepping into the kitchen. Her good mood fell away.

Charlie Weasley.

She looked in disgust at what he was eating before turning to the pantry to get a muffin Fleur had baked the day before.

She wouldn't have a problem with Charlie if he didn't act like her being here was against nature. Or if he didn't treat her like she had the plague. Or did he avoid her constantly because she stank quite terribly? Which she was sure she didn't because she showered or bathed twice a day, used deodorant and scented oils.

She huffed as she took a seat at the table and poured herself a cup of coffee to go with her muffin. No sugar, no milk. She liked it black and bitter. And it complemented her banana and cinnamon muffin quite well, actually.

And she ignored Charlie. He, on the other hand, glared openly at her.

Finally, she cracked.

"This is as much your kitchen as mine. If I want to sit here, don't you dare glare at me like it is a crime!" She snapped at him, glowering.

"I never said it was a crime!" He snapped back,

"Then quit acting like it! For Merlin's sake you act like a child." Miette retorted, angrily tearing a piece off her muffin and stuffing it in her mouth.

"I do not act like a child! And I am not acting like it is a crime!"

"Listening at doors for me and avoiding me is childish, Charlie! I am not a monster! And that look you have been giving me ever since I came here? What is that? Not acting like I am a criminal?"

Miette stuffed the last of her muffin in her mouth as she stood up with her coffee in her hand. "I'm not the bogeyman, Charlie."

And with that she gracefully left the kitchen to go sit outside. It was only 7:30. Fleur and Bill would be waking up, and they were planning to take Victoire out with them to Gringotts to open an account for her. So she would have the day to herself. Just her, her book and some crazy red-head wizard who was treating her like a death eater.

Charlie glared into his bowl. He really didn't like this French girl. Who was she to come in with her face flushed from running and her hair messy and intrude on his solitary? Alright, so maybe that was a bit childish. But she infuriated him.

His spoon clattered against his bowl as he threw it in. Any more of these encounters and he might actually go all homicidal and shit. Seriously. Miette was driving him crazy.

**A/N**

Alrighty, so I hope this is alright. If it seems weak or you notice errors, please let me know! It will only be a small story, so the plot is pretty basic, but if it is boring I apologise. I am also sticking to shorter chapters because, as I said, it is small (or at least smaller than my other story).

But thank you for reading this :-)

-x-


	4. Overwhelming Fear

**Overwhelming Fear**

_Miette was flying. Her hair flapping behind her. A small voice in her head told her something was going to happen. Puzzled, she nearly missed the next turn, dropping her leading time by 2 seconds. Cursing, Miette pressed forward. Passing one of the other girls, a part of Miette screamed at her to move, but no sound came._

_A stream of green light streaked past Miette slowly, surreally. She tried to shout again, but her voice was gone. _

_The green light hit the girl and she dropped like a stone. Miette felt dizzy as she moved as fast as she could so as to avoid getting hit. She had her wand out and was trying to use it but it was as useless as a twig. As she reached Nicole, Miette tried to push her away from an orange light that was also approaching slowly. But she could not move. Her trusty broom remained stationary._

_The light hit Nicole and Miette could move again, but each time she tried to catch Nicole, she slipped, as though her team mate and friend was coated in butter. Finally with a grip on Nicole, Miette started to choke. Smoke burned her skin and clouded her vision. And Nicole suddenly felt like a 1 ton weight. Struggling against the weight, Miette dropped Nicole. _

_Once again, she tried to scream. Scream for help, out of her own helplessness and for the loss of her friend. But nothing came out. Just silence. And then she fell. Her broom just disappeared and Miette had the sensation of falling. She was screaming as hard as she could, but could hear nothing. _

_She kept falling, her panic levels rising more and more. She was falling, and she was going to die. She took another breath to try scream, but smoke filled her lungs and Miette spluttered, breathless and terrified as the ground rapidly approached. _

Miette woke with a start, tangled in her sheets and drenched in sweat. Tears fell freely from her eyes as she curled into a ball and began to sob.

Charlie had been sleeping rather deeply, his dreams for once not plagued by his late younger brother. He heard a shout from the room next to his. Miette's room. Puzzled, he climbed out of bed and pressed his ear against the wall. Another shout and Charlie cursed. So the French girl had woken him up with her ranting?

He grunted and stepped towards the door to tell her to shut it when instead of a shout he heard a scream. Grabbing his wand, Charlie bolted from his room and ripped her door open. She was lying on her bed, pitching one hell of a fit. Her hair was damp and her face was contorted in agony. Unsure of what to do, Charlie took a cautious step forward, treating her like one of the dragons he had looked after. Never be to fast around a scared animal. No sudden movements.

It took a moment to realise she was just dreaming, and Charlie relaxed a bit. She was screaming again, a shrill sound that made his skin crawl. After the war, the sound of screaming made Charlie sick to the stomach. Fighting that night... screams were everywhere. Screams from the injured, from the dying and the scared. From the ones being tortured by Death Eaters, from people when they believed Harry to be dead, and screams from people upon discovering dead loved ones. Like the scream from his mother when she saw Fred.

Charlie shoved the thought away and took a step towards Miette to wake her up and stop the damned screaming.

Before he got a chance, however, she woke up by herself. Charlie watched her and felt his stomach drop. It was like watching an injured animal lay ready to die. "Miette?" He asked over her sobbing.

"Go away." She said in a defeated voice, looking at him with her red blotchy face.

"At least come get a glass of water. It will help." He asked gently, but trying to not let the fact that he cared into his voice. Because he didn't. She just looked too much like an injured animal.

He offered her his hand and slowly she took it, looking at him with wary but wild eyes.

He guided her to the kitchen and got her a glass of water whilst she sat, staring at the table. He itched, no, he _burned _to know what or who had tormented her dreams. But they weren't on the best of terms and he had a rule against prying.

Miette was grateful, but extremely embarrassed. She was too French for this to _not_ hurt her pride. Seriously.

They sat in silence, whilst she slowly sipped her water.

"You know what will help?" Charlie said suddenly, making her lift her head and look at him curiously, like he was a specimen she was studying under a microscope. "Flying. It always helps me. Come."

It was more of a command than a question, and Miette stood up to decline, but he obviously took it the wrong way. With a grin on his face, Charlie grabbed her arm and pulled her out into the courtyard. _Excellent,_ Miette thought to herself grimly. _He will throw me off the broom. Kill me because he hates me so much. _

Internally, she rolled her eyes at her on thoughts.

"No, I really don't think I should..." Miette said, trying to pull her arm away.

"You won't know until you try it!" he replied cheerily, yanking her onto the broom behind him.

Gulping, Miette struggled against him until he was up in the air.

"You don't understand!" Miette shouted, panic blurring her vision. She gripped tightly onto the broom with her legs and even tighter around Charlie's waist like someone who had never flown in her life.

"I won't let you fall." He said to her confidently, soaring higher.

Tears blurred her vision. She said something like that to Nicole. Before... before she dropped her best friend to her death. Gulping for oxygen, Miette gripped tighter onto the Charlie. Panic was taking over and she felt her body violently shake. Fear took over.

"Take me down! Take me down please!" She screamed shrilly.

She felt Charlie stiffen and felt is decent. Coming closer to the ground, Miette's nails dug through Charlie's shirt to his flesh. Distantly she heard him swear.

After what felt like a decade, Miette was back on the ground. She launched herself off the broom and fell to the ground on all fours, her stomach rejecting its entire contents.

"Wow, never knew you would be scared of flying." Charlie commented in a smart arse way, pricking what was left of Miette's pride.

"Merlin! I told you I didn't want to!" Miette hissed, pulling herself up off the ground, glaring up at him. "Stay away from me."

With one final icy glare, Miette spun around and walked back to her room. Once there, she lay down and curled into a ball again. She felt exhausted. Like she had been deprived of sleep for weeks. Slowly, she fell asleep again, undisturbed by her dreams but still haunted by what lay in the suitcase under her bed.

Charlie stared after Miette, watching her retreating figure all but run from him. He had only tried to help. How was he supposed to know she would be like Ron when there was a spider on his shoe.

"Fuck." He cursed, kicking a tree. "Merlin! Women!"

He stormed back to his broom and mounted it, pushing up into the sky. He always made mistakes. His biggest mistake had always been not protecting his little brother. And now another mistake had made Miette hate him even more. And it wasn't even his fault.

He pushed higher until he could see the lights of the closest town.

And he stayed flying until the sun slowly started to rise.

Sunrise was his favourite.

**A/N**

Sorry about the slight wait :-P

But here it is! Hope you enjoy it.

-x-


	5. Mutual Understanding

**Mutual Understanding**

Fleur gazed at the man sleeping beside her. He looked so beautifully peaceful and innocent she felt the desire to protect him from all the bad in the world. The early morning sun was hindered by the blinds, only a small amount of light filtering in through the edges giving the room a peaceful feeling. And it was silent, filled only with Bill's breathing and little Victoire's fussing in her sleep.

And Fleur was happy.

This was her family. Her very own family to love and care for. And her Bill. She still remembered the first time she saw him. He has seemed completely immune to her, focused absolutely completely on his work. It had frustrated her to no end, but he fascinated her. To be honest, she had always relied on her Veela blood to get her places. Relied on it to look after her social life and make friends. So it was a bit of a pain in the neck when it didn't work.

Eventually, though, they grew to be friends. Close friends even, once she had used her personality a bit more. He was the most patient person she knew. He would sit through hours of listening to her ridiculous English, patiently helping her. She liked that. He looked so tough, but he was actually such a gentleman. Coffee after work every Thursday turned to coffee every morning. And that soon turned into lunches too. Gradually it became dinner. And with that came the realisation that slowly they had drifted into a relationship, like to pieces of driftwood that floated on the waves, coming closer and closer until they came together.

And soon enough, she started to love him. The dinners went on for hours, and sometimes into the next day. More than once she had stayed over at his apartment, him sleeping on the couch and her in his bed. It was nice. Contrary to popular belief, she had never done _stuff_ with anyone. Make out, yes. Anything more? Never.

Even with Bill, it became kissing, and maybe a bit more, but everything else waited until they were married. And Fleur liked that. He was such a gentleman like that. So caring, so patient.

And now they were married with a beautiful – but difficult – baby girl. The war had damaged them both. They had both done things that Fleur shuddered to think about. Memories of a couple of snatchers she... disposed of fought their way to her conscious, and she dealt with the guilt by knowing that her actions meant that little Victoire would never have to do those things. Victoire would grow up safe and happy.

Fleur traced her fingers over Bill's chest softly. He was so beautiful. So perfect.

Maybe not anyone else's perfect, but he was hers. His red hair was tangled and she smiled as she tried to run her fingers through it and snagged a knot. He grunted in his sleep and rolled onto his side, his arm catching her around the waist and pulling her into him.

"Morning..." he grumbled, snuggling his head into her neck.

"Good morning sleepy." She replied, her French accent even worse in the morning.

Their voices woke Victoire and Fleur was up and out of bed to hush her. If Victoire was hungry, she cried and performed. If she was tired, or just woken up, or slightly uncomfortable, or bored; Victoire cried and performed. Any guesses about what sort of person she will be...?

But Fleur loved her anyway. Even if Victoire's near constant wailing had lead them to put a silencing charm on their whole bedroom lest something fell in the night and woke her up.

After pulling on something more descent – after all, they don't live alone – Fleur and Bill made their way to the kitchen. Obviously, Charlie and Miette were already awake. Charlie was in the sitting room looking like absolute murder. Miette was sitting in the kitchen with a look on her face that spoke hundreds of emotions, none of them nice. Dark rings sat under her eyes which were puffy and made her look about ten years older than she actually was, but Fleur knew better than to comment.

"Bill?" Fleur whispered, pulling him to the other end of the kitchen as Miette. "Speak to Charlie? I'll speak to her. They are... not making this easy. For anyone."

"I know." Bill sighed, brushing a finger over his daughter's cheek as she looked around the kitchen with curious eyes, so ignorant of the politics in the house. "Today."

Fleur relaxed a bit and gathered some fruit onto her plate, as well as a wholegrain, sugar-free apple and vanilla muffin, a handful of almonds and a few slices of cheese. So she was a bit of a health nut, but at least she would live longer and look really good for most of it.

Bill followed suite, and Fleur smiled. She insisted he ate healthy, and he had slowly started to listen to her. Success.

She kissed him on the cheek before walking up to Miette. "Miette? Join me outside, would you. I feel like fresh air and I know you don't like being indoors." She asked in French, passing Victoire over to her cousin so she could carry her breakfast out.

Silently, Miette followed her, Victoire in one arm and a cup of coffee occupying her other hand.

Waiting until Fleur left the room, Bill grabbed a bowl and filled it to the top with sugar-filled cereal and milk before heading into the living room with both his cereal and his healthy food.

Charlie looked up as he entered, looking at both lots of food. "Your wife know about the cereal?" he asked in a mockingly serious voice.

Bill grinned. "Nope. And if you know what's good for you it will stay like that."

He sat down next to Charlie, putting the cereal on the coffee table and starting on the healthy food. Call him a freak or whatever you like, but Bill's secret weakness was soggy breakfast cereal.

Charlie's hand snaked to his plate and snatched up the muffin before stuffing it in his mouth. "Wha?" he exclaimed with his mouth full at Bill's glare before swallowing. "Miette beat me to the kitchen so I haven't eaten yet."

Bill shook his head. "Are you serious, Charlie? She is half your size and you are scared of her?"

"Hey, she is the she-devil. The less amount of contact I have with her, the better."

"Charlie – she is not the devil. A bit French, but that is all."

"Nah mate, she is the devil. You wouldn't know because she has you under her spell, but she is actually sucking away your soul."

"I thought that was dementors."

"And devils."

A small silence descended upon them as Charlie stuffed his mouth with the rest of the muffin and Bill nibbled on his fruit.

"She is really frustrating." Charlie began again, "I wish she would just leave."

"Charlie, Miette is here to help Fleur and me with Victoire. She won't be leaving just yet."

"Well fuck it; I'm going back to Romania."

"No you aren't."

"Shut up."

"What happened last night?"

"She was having one hell of a nightmare so I tried to help her by taking her for a flight." Charlie mumbled, eating the almonds on Bill's plate. Bill sighed.

"Look, Charlie," Bill began, putting his plate on the table next to his cereal, "Miette can't help it. You should probably have been told earlier."

"Told what? She _is_ actually some sort of demon?"

"No, about where she is coming from. Why she is the way she is."

"Oh."

"Miette woke up from a coma a couple months ago." Bill began softly, staring intently at Charlie's face to gage his reactions. "You remember, just after the wedding, that stadium the Death Eaters attacked?"

Charlie nodded, remembering it in the papers. Well, more precisely, in the Quibbler. Few survivors.

"Miette was there. She used to be a world champion, believe it or not."

"At what, being a devil?" Charlie asked, guilt pushing on his stomach. No wonder she reacted the way she did. Bill stared on his cereal.

"No, a racer. Fleur and I watched a few of her races, and Merlin's beard, Charlie, I have never seen anything like it. Freaking fast as a spell. Man, if she was at Hogwarts and in Gryffindor? You would have recruited her like _that_!" Bill snapped his fingers for intended effect, but he had never been good at snapping his fingers, so no sound came from it.

"So she used to fly at speeds that make _me_ queezy, and she had a panic attack going _slowly_?"

"Don't you get it, Charlie?" Bill queried, his patience stretching. He liked Miette. The most down-to-earth of all of Fleurs cousins. That is not saying much, mind you. But still...

Charlie just looked at him.

"Miette lost so much that day. She watched her team members die and nearly died herself. They found her pinned under a fallen beam, second and third degree burns and more broken bones than you can count on your hands."

Bill could see the quilt etched onto his brother's face, as well as pain. Talk of death always brought up memories of Fred, which were painful to everyone. George barely talked, and Charlie? It if weren't for Fleur's insistence that nothing strong than coffee is stored in her house, well his liver would be as dead as Voldemort.

"Well shit..." Charlie said, still in a part daze.

Bill nodded, munching on his cereal. They sat in silence until the cereal was finished. Patting his brother in the shoulder, Bill got up and took the dishes to the kitchen. He had done his part, and with any hope, Shell Cottage would become a bit more peaceful.

Fleur sat outside with Miette, who was gently rocking Victoire whilst sipping her black coffee. Fleur could never understand Miette's taste for black coffee. With no sugar. Sure, Fleur never _ever_ added sugar to her coffee, but she did like it milky. Not black. She began eating her breakfast, watching her cousin-come-best-friend with her daughter.

"Miette?" Fleur asked, looking out across the ocean. "Why do you hate Charlie so much?" she continued in French.

Miette paused what she was doing and placed her coffee onto the small garden table. She continued the conversation in her mother tongue. "Charlie thinks only about himself. He is so touchy and has been treating me like rubbish the moment I arrived."

Fleur had to smile at Miette's brutal straight-to-the-point honesty. "And you have not at all instigated anything?"

"I did not say that."

"You insinuated."

"Did not."

"Miette Delacour, you know just as well as I do that you insinuated."

Miette rolled her eyes, mouthing something to Victoire. She looked back up at Fleur. "Fine. I insinuated. But anything I did is because he is so insensitive!"

"Mie, how can he be insensitive if he has no idea what is sensitive?"

Miette opened and closed her mouth a few times before deciding to remain silent.

"He also has emotions. The war wasn't easy on him either. We were lucky, Miette. Our family were safe in France. We lost no one. Bill and Charlie..." Fleur paused, taking the child Miette was passing to her and cradling Victoire. "They lost a brother, Miette."

Shame covered Miette's face. Fleur could almost smell the guilt and sympathy Miette was feeling. Miette was even biting her lip, a habit Fleur knew she only did when she was lying, or had done something wrong. Fleur took the opportunity to rub salt in the wounds. It was the only thing she could think of to really make her cousin behave like a mature adult.

"Fred was..." Fleur paused. She had liked Fred. The more sensitive of the twins. The first one to accept her. She continued, "Fred was extremely close to Charlie. They always were, from the day the twins were born. When Fred died... Charlie was a mess. Always drinking, running his life in so many ways."

Miette remained quiet, her eyes staring at the waves crashing on the beach.

"Bill and I stepped in to help him. Give him space and independence without the responsibility of living alone. Or the chance to do stupid things."

"I feel terrible, Fleur." Miette whispered, a tear running down her cheek. "I had no idea."

Miette had never lost family. Fleur knew that. She had lost friends, which Fleur knew had affected her deeply. But never had Miette lost someone that close to her. Wordlessly, Miette stood up and walked off back towards the house. Fleur smiled and looked down at Victoire.

"I hope you one day have a friend like her, my angel." Fleur smiled, cradling her baby close and looking out to the peaceful water.

Miette felt like complete crap. How could _she_ be so insensitive? Internally she growled. Why did the war have to haunt her so? As if the scars and her fears and dreams weren't enough, it had to haunt her in the people she saw.

She walked into the living room, and making a decision that she wasn't sure was the right decision, she walked up to Charlie and put her hand on his shoulder. He startled and she had to force back a smirk. For a moment she looked into his eyes and saw it all. All the pain and emotion. His very own internal battle that she knew would be reflected in her own eyes.

After a mere moment, she just walked away. Up the stairs and into her room. She lay down, and she slept a peaceful sleep.

**AN**

Sorry about the wait! But here it is.

-x-


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